And when Isabella said those words to me, I felt my own burden of blame begin to lift, because I had started to wonder, If a person can promote cancer in himself, why not in someone else? Was it my fault? I know a man-sixty years old-who has lost three wives to cancer. He believes himself to be carcinogenic, and if one does the arithmetic, he is. He stopped dating ten years ago, convinced that his love leads only to death. He golfs. He drinks. He lives alone. He has eight dogs.
I heard Izzy's words coming back to me as I watch Corrine preside with guilty intensity over the stove. I kissed her on the head and said, "It's plain old bad luck. It happened to her so it didn't have to happen to Joe, or you, or me."
She looked at me, then nodded slowly. Joe heaved himself up from the table to answer the phone. I looked out the window again to the clear, hot morning and wondered how of this would end.
"For you," said Joe, handing me the cordless. "Erik Wald.”
"Famous enough yet, Erik?"
"Sh-sh-sh-sh. Hello, Russ. I told a white lie."
I said nothing but walked outside to the porch and closed the front door behind me. The sunlight stunned me, but not much as the fact that the Midnight Eye had traced me so easily to the home of Isabella's parents.
"What do you want?"
"I liked the articles. This Citizens' Task Force is an absolutely terrifying posse. I'm so afraid I can hardly show my face. Speaking of faces, that was quite a picture on the front page. I consider it a little unlucky to have driven by at that moment. I wondered if those neighbors had captured my image."
Something tried to dawn on me at that moment, but was in no position to ponder it, trying my best to remember each word, as we talked. I tried to file it
"Everyone in the county knows who to look for."
"Sh-sh-sh-sh… I told you I was terrified. Has Wald completed his profile?"
"No.".
"Because he's so busy becoming legendary."
"It's amazing what you pigs will do for a little ink," I said.
"Why no mention of our conversation? You didn't say anything about my racial cleansing. About the racial facial I'm giving our county."
"One thing at a time."
"You're making the mistake of thinking you have all the time in the world. Maybe I'll make my dramatic statement sooner. Or, there's another possibility…"
"What."
"I've made it already. Sh-sh-sh-sh."
I checked my watch. It was 9:36 a.m.
"Did Winters install the tracer on your home phone?"
"We decided against it. We'd rather talk to you."
"Oh, what a convincing, solid, just… believable lie. I admire you, Russell."
"Believe what you want. The line's clear."
"I know this one is."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want you to tell the county about my racial cleansing, you turd-sucking faggot. I've already told you that. What are you, even stupider than I thought? Do you think I call you for my own entertainment? Don't fuck with me, Monroe!"
"Nobody wants to fuck with you. We want to give you what you want."
"I c-c-can hear Erik Wald's flimsy academic thought process behind you. Did Winters order him to coach you? Is it really you and Wald I'm dealing with?"
"Yes."
"Good. I assumed as much. The idea is to give me enough rope to hang myself. I'll bet that exact cliche was used by the nigger Winters. Now listen, Russell, I expect the following quote to be in your next piece. R-r-ready? 'The goal of the Midnight Eye is to inform all racial minorities that they are no longer welcome in the county.' Shall I repeat that?"
"I've just written it down."
"Read it back."
I did.
"Sh-sh-sh-sh. I feel better. Relieved. Overall, I'm in go spirits today. In fact, I gave some thought to your question about the death of the model-Amber Mae? It's obvious that someone inside the department made a sophomoric attempt to blame that murder on me. Correct?"
"I believe so."
"Do you know who?"
"No," I lied. The idea of using the Eye to help me escape the clutches of Martin Parish seemed ludicrous, but then again, I didn't have many allies. Could the Eye realize something I had not?
"Have you defined the people who knew about my first two statements-the greaser and nigger couples?"
"I think so."
"Well, Russell… enumerate."
"Winters, Parish, Singer, Yee, Karen Schultz. Parish's that’s three or four people. Maybe the forensic crew put them together-that's half a dozen more. Wald suspected early, but was out of the official loop-I talked to him about it." "Um-hm."
I listened for background noise but heard none. I turn and looked through the front window to where Joe and Corrine both stared back at me, their faces mute and curious.
"And you, Russell? In or out of the loop?"
"Out."
"They were awfully slow to admit what was going on, weren't they?"
"Yes."
"That's one of the reasons I chose to talk to you, you know. Cops are so… bureaucratic, so… sluggish. Tell me, do any of the people you mentioned have a history with this Amber?"
"Parish and Wald."
"And, of course, you."
"Yes."
"Explain to me any monetary considerations. Her estate, to be specific."
I told the Eye of the basic dispensations of Amber Mae's fortunes, should an untimely death befall her. He listened without interrupting.
"Forget Winters, Singer, and Schultz for obvious reasons," he said finally. "Dismiss Wald, too. He's an academic, a dilettante, a coward. The Captain of Detectives, Martin Parish, would be a very interesting possibility. Sh-sh-sh-sh. It's so much fun to be a cop!"
"Maybe you should join the Task Force."
"Get a little cap and shirt! What self-aggrandizing silliness for Winters. Exactly what I'd expect from a nigger-always style over substance."
I said nothing.
"Tell me, Russell, are there maybe, just maybe… intimations from some quarters that you are a suspect?"
"Yes."
"Promoted by, let me guess, Martin Parish?"
"Yes."
"Oh, this is getting rich. You might have a hard time of it, because Parish could write, direct, and produce a convincing case against you-practically out of thin air."
The Eye's words eerily recalled those of Parish, spoken not twelve hours previously, as he orchestrated the grim funeral of Alice Fultz.
"I've considered that."
"How's Isabella?"
"That's not your business."
"She is of… Mexican blood, isn't she?"
"If you touch her, I'll kill you. That is a promise."
"Testy, testy. Sh-sh-sh-sh. Look, Russell, get that statement into the paper tomorrow or I'll make your life so miserable you won't be able to stand it. Quote me, word for word. Run my picture again if you think it will do any good. Winters will get a call today at noon. That's two hours from now. You might want to be there for it."